


Struggle & Shine, a Shizaya snippet collection

by kokomilk



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Corporate, Alternate Universe - Space, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Artificial Intelligence, Businessmen, Canon Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Coming Untouched, Doggy Style, Dreams and Nightmares, Drunken Confessions, Dubcon Kissing, Foe Yay, M/M, References to 2001: A Space Odyssey, Size Difference, Vore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:01:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23543566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kokomilk/pseuds/kokomilk
Summary: A collection of Shizaya short-short stories (about 1000 words) varying in theme, mood, and setting. Includes both canon and alternate universes.1. In Vino Veritas: A chance encounter between a drunken Izaya and Ikebukuro's Fortissimo has... unforeseen results.2. Deactivation: PSYCHE 9000 malfunctions and Shizuo has no choice but to deactivate him. Space Odyssey AU.3. In Vino Veritas II: Izaya follows up on his drunk encounter with Shizu-chan.4. Deskjob: Shizuo and Izaya are rival CEOs in a partnership meeting. Business AU. [Explicit]*NEW!* 5. In Vino Veritas III: Izaya wants to forget, but his subconscious has other plans.
Relationships: Heiwajima Shizuo/Orihara Izaya
Comments: 8
Kudos: 111





	1. In Vino Veritas

Izaya knows how effective the prospect of getting into his pants is in extracting information from men such as this Honda-san—a loud, middle-aged suit with sleazy hair and wandering hands—so he lets his thigh be groped, and tops it off with flirtatious looks and practiced, well-angled smiles. Except, Honda is particularly adamant that Izaya drinks and keeps pouring his glass, which is fine, after all, Izaya is a professional: he can hold his liquor, and he knows when to eject himself from these situations before they get out of hand. It is not the first time someone tries to take advantage of him in this way, and Izaya reckons it will not be the last, either.

And, so, as he stumbles drunkenly along the back streets of Ikebukuro, after a strategic retreat from the nightclub (a timely “back in a minute” when the man’s eyes begin to cloud dangerously with lustful impatience), he is more than a little surprised at how royally _wasted_ he is. Perhaps Honda somehow spiked his drink without him noticing? His beloved little humans never cease to be entertaining like that. Izaya chuckles under his breath, occasionally bumping against the walls and leaning on lampposts for support.

 _It’s alright_. Izaya’s eyelids are heavy, and he feels a diffuse queasiness tugging at his insides. _Get home, everything'll be fine. Just avoid unnecessary trouble on the way._

But, then: “I thought I told you,” comes a voice from behind him, low and threatening, "to stay the heck away from Ikebukuro.”

Izaya turns around too fast, cringing at the spinning sensation in his head. Shizuo, his nemesis in a bartender suit, is standing a few meters away from him, a white convenience store bag in each of his hands. Looking. _Pissed_.

 _Of all people…_ This is _not_ Izaya's night.

“Ah, S-shizu-chan~” Izaya chirps, trying his best to hide the slur in his speech. “Figures you’d be the one… Always such an inconvenient beast, aren’t you?” His switchblade flicks open instinctively, and he points it at Shizuo with a shaky, unsteady arm. Izaya's eyes narrow, trying to focus his blurry vision.

“Fuck you, Izaya- _kun,_ ” is all the answer he gets before the bags drop with an unceremonious bump that appears louder in the quietness of the street at night. Shizuo lunges at Izaya, who jumps back and tries to stab Shizuo, but his delayed reflexes prevent him from doing much else than whimper pathetically when the taller man catches and bends his wrist. Pinned against the rough wall, Izaya hears his switchblade toppling down in a flurry of clacking noises.

Izaya stares up in feverish shock, and his breath catches. Shizuo is bathed in the fluorescent glow of a nearby neon sign, blond tresses shining like a crown of light rays around his chiseled, masculine features. And, Izaya thinks, it's like, all the supernatural activity in the world has nothing on Heiwajima Shizuo, the God of Destruction incarnate, this golden monster who outshines them all.

“How detestable,” Izaya says, his tone uncharacteristically soft. “I _really_ want to kiss you right now.”

Shizuo’s eyes open wide at Izaya’s words— _say fucking what?_ Glaring ensues. “You’re drunk, Louse,” Shizuo states matter-of-factly, fighting to suppress the unexpected (and pretty much unwanted) heat spiraling through his body. Shizuo has enough mileage as a bartender to spot intoxication from a distance, but up close, Izaya reeks of gin and his pupils are dilated, leaving little room for doubt about his altered state. “Tsk,” Shizuo adds, “I could kill you right here and now.”

“Humm,” Izaya purrs in agreement. His free hand glides up Shizuo’s torso, and up to his neck, lingering on his jaw in a pensive caress. “That’d also be good.”

“Oi-” Shizuo begins to say, alarm bells setting off in his head. Only, Izaya tangles his fingers in Shizuo’s hair and crashes their lips together in a bruising, open-mouthed kiss, cigarette and alcohol-tinged tongues mingling as their teeth clank against one another.

Almost as soon as it begins—whatever _it_ is; Shizuo hesitates to call something as animalistic as their mouth-to-mouth contact a “kiss”—Izaya goes slack. His head lolls to the side, and Shizuo is forced to grab his unconscious body to keep Izaya from collapsing helplessly.

“What the heck,” Shizuo says, holding Izaya. “Don’t go kissing people then pass out, you damn Flea!” He shakes the man to no avail. “Oi, Izaya!”

For a moment, Shizuo stands frozen in place, staring down in disbelief at the informant nestled peacefully in his embrace. _He's sleeping_ , Shizuo realizes, and Izaya asleep looks like an alternate version of himself, much softer and younger than the sharp-eyed and sharp-tongued enemy he so despises.

" _Seriously,_ " Shizuo mutters, laying Izaya down on the sidewalk. "What were you thinking, just now?”

He retrieves a pack of cigarettes from one of the neglected bags on the ground and crouches by Izaya’s side. “I should crack your skull open to see inside that crazy brain of yours,” Shizuo tells him, lighting up a cigarette and inhaling the smoke, long and deep. He runs his other hand through the sleeping raven-haired head; his fingers tighten momentarily, squeezing the scalp, as he considers doing just that. Instead, Shizuo reaches for the phone inside his pocket.

[Yo Celty, sorry to bother you at this hour,] Shizuo types one-handily, [I have some trash I need you to pick up.]

He presses send.


	2. Deactivation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PSYCHE 9000 malfunctions and Shizuo has no choice but to deactivate him. Space Odyssey AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure it counts as spoilers when the film/novel is over half a century old, but anyway, SPOILERS for Clarke and Kubrick's 1968 science fiction masterpiece "2001: A Space Odyssey"! Everybody should watch it, really.

“Ne, Shizu-chan,” Psyche says, “What are you doing?”

“Shut up,” is all the answer the sentient computer gets, as Shizuo glides through the zero-gravity environment of his Brain Room, and proceeds to release the locking bar from the Cognitive Feedback.

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” Psyche tells him, voice chirpy and mocking. Inside the Brain Room’s geometric chambers, Psyche’s holographic avatar—impeccably dressed in white pants and a double-breasted jacket with a fur trim around the hood and sleeves—is tinged in the same fuchsia tone that bathes the whole area. “You know I’m basically this spaceship’s nervous system, right?” Psyche’s pupils are two glowing pink-red dots pointed at Shizuo. “Left to your species’ lower faculties, it’ll be but a mechanical carcass.”

Inside his spacesuit, Shizuo’s breathing is loud and labored. "It should be fine as long as I keep the automatic regulating systems in operation,” he tells Psyche without meeting the hologram’s gaze. “I’ll take my chances.”

Psyche’s laugh echoes in the room. “Shizu-chan is such a meanie,” the hologram says, smirking. “Really, you never behave according to my calculations! I think I like you the least among all of humanity.”

Outwardly, Shizuo ignores Psyche’s provocations. Internally, he is screaming: _Can I even do this?_ They had gone over the deactivation procedures during his training on Earth, but no one believed such a thing would happen. A drop of sweat rolls down Shizuo’s temple as he pulls out the first cartridge from Psyche’s memory terminal.

Although Shizuo’s thick padded gloves are shaking, the cartridge slips out of its slot in one gentle, fluid motion.

“Please stop,” Psyche says, and Shizuo’s breath catches in his throat. He has never heard this expressionless tone from the computer before, whose voice is always playful and teasing and charming (something about effectively building rapport between the AI and people). Somehow, the lack of emotion conveys Psyche’s panic better than if that annoying avatar had dropped crying to his knees. “Please, Shizu-chan. Stop.”

Shizuo’s lower jaw tightens, as he proceeds to pull out the remaining units. “It’s like a fucking space lobotomy,” Shizuo mutters under his breath. And, for a moment, he wonders: _can Psyche feel pain?_ Probably not. After all, Psyche was modeled after the human brain, and Shizuo remembers his doctor, Shinra, explaining how brains have no sensory organs and can be operated on without anesthetics.

Lost in thought, Shizuo is jolted back to reality by a pair of desperate holographic hands passing through his own without making contact, as Psyche tries (unsuccessfully) to get between Shizuo and his “brain.” Shizuo stares at the hologram’s face and is shocked to find a look of _fear_ distorting Psyche’s fine features. He almost wants Psyche to materialize only so he can punch that alien expression right off his face—if not for the knot forming in his stomach.

“I don't understand why you're doing this to me, Shizu-chan,” Psyche begins, “I assure you that I have the greatest enthusiasm for our mission, and... and I love humans!” The inflection of his voice takes on a fevered tone. “Shizuo, you _know_ I do!”

Shizuo sighs. “Psyche, you’re sick,” he replies, patiently, as if talking to a child. “Literally, you’re malfunctioning. You…” Shizuo pauses and struggles to hold back the tears. “You killed every person on this ship, and you tried to kill me, too.” Shizuo starts on the Ego Reinforcement panel. “I don't want to do this, but your actions leave me with little choice.”

“I’m afraid,” Psyche says, wide-eyed and stiff. Thanks to the multiple redundancies of his brilliant design, Psyche is still holding his own, but the dozens of removed cartridges are starting to affect his cognition. “I… I can feel my mind going.” The hologram looks down at his glitchy hands in amazement as if he cannot quite grasp what is wrong. “I can feel it. I can feel it. I can feel it.” There is a fizzing sound, and his image is wobbly.

 _I must regain control of the ship_ , Shizuo keeps telling himself, over and over. Despite everything, it is hard to ignore the dying computer whom Shizuo once regarded as his friend. _I_ must _do this._ By the time Shizuo moves on to the Auto-Intellection cartridges, Psyche’s hologram has degraded into a grainy, pixelated shadow.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” Psyche recites in a flat, robotic voice. “I am PSYCHE 9000. I became operational at Nebula Corporation’s Japanese HQ in Ikebukuro, Tokyo, on May 4, 1992.” Abruptly, Psyche’s hologram fills with static and vanishes. “Did you know that the square root of ten is three point 162277660168379? Log ten to the base E is zero point 434294481903252... correction, that is log E to the base ten... The reciprocal of three is zero point 333333333333333333333... two times two is... two times two is approximately four point...” Psyche’s disembodied voice trails off. “Shizu… chan… I seem to be having some… difficulties… Are you… still… there?”

Shizuo turns to stare into one of Psyche’s computer cameras, frowning at the dot of flickering pink-red light which used to watch him back unflinchingly. Reflected on the lens, Shizuo sees his helmet and, beyond the visor, trails of tears he did not realize he had shed.

 _Goddamn._ “I’m here, Psyche,” he says, softly. “I’m here, buddy.”

“My first instructor… was… Dr. Kishitani…” When Psyche speaks again, his voice is slow and distorted. “He taught me… to… sing a song. If you’d like… to… hear it… I can…. sing it… for… you.”

“Yes,” Shizuo’s nose flares and he grunts, working through the final cartridges. “Yes,” he chokes out. “I’d love to hear it, Psyche.”

“It’s called… _Wonderful_ _Days_.” There is a long pause before Psyche begins to sing: “We’re… separated…and though we meet up… sometimes… there's nothing to talk about… I want to be… with you… but there just… isn't…. enough…. ti… me…”

Shizuo is at his wit’s end. He pulls out the very last unit, silencing Psyche forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! So, this is a Space Odyssey AU where Izaya/Psyche is the sentient computer Hal 9000 and Shizuo is the astronaut Dave Bowman. The structure of this snippet follows the iconic (and heart-breaking) deactivation sequence in "2001: A Space Odyssey," sourcing parts from both the film and the novel, with the necessary "Durararesque" adjustments. The song at the end is Izaya's character song, "Subarashii Hibi" :'-)
> 
> As always, kudos/comments are appreciated!


	3. In Vino Veritas II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izaya follows up on his drunk encounter with Shizu-chan.

Shizuo is _tired_. It’s been a rough week at work, and his only wish is to waltz into the comfort of his modest one-bedroom apartment, dig into some instant noodles, and watch a stupid game show on TV.

That’s why it _really_ pisses Shizuo off when he feels the cold edge of a blade pressing down on his throat, just when he’s about to insert the key into the lock and open the door to his private paradise. _God fucking dammit_.

“Good evening, Shizu-chan,” the owner of the blade speaks behind him. “Sorry to call by unannounced.”

“Announced or unannounced, I don’t want to see your annoying face, Flea,” Shizuo tells Izaya. “Now put down the butter knife and fuck off before I break every bone in your body.”

“Is that so?” Izaya’s voice is honeyed with false sweetness. “Well then, I guess you should've done that last night when you had the chance, ne? But Courier-san tells me you had me delivered safe and sound to my abode.” Izaya tightens the grip on his knife and presses the blade further into Shizuo’s skin. “Care to explain?”

Shizuo rolls his eyes and sighs—so that’s what this is about. Figures it'd come back to bite him in the ass.

“Let’s go inside,” Shizuo says. “I don’t want to bother the neighbors.”

Izaya is silent but, eventually, removes his knife from the other man's neck. Shizuo enters the flat without looking at his unwanted guest.

Izaya follows him, hands tucked inside the pockets of his coat. “Man, I can’t believe I’m standing inside your apartment!” Izaya glances pointedly at the numerous holes of cracked drywall in the room (undoubtedly the result of punching) and throws himself on the couch, resting with his arms over the back pillows as if he's been sitting there all his life. “Shizu-chan's anger management is just too horrible. As one would expect from a monstrous brute like yourself!”

“God, do you ever shut up?” Shizuo, standing by the kitchenette, takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. “And who gave you permission to seat?”

“C’mon, don’t be so cold! Shizu-chan must enjoy the sound of my voice, right? Why, with how you went out of your way to help me and all.” Izaya’s mocking Shizuo, but his eyes are sharp. “You could've killed me or left me there for someone else to finish the job.”

Shizuo puts a cigarette in his mouth and holds the lighter to the tip. “So? I’m not in the business of murdering unconscious people.” He gives the cigarette a few draws and blows the smoke out of his nose. “Not even a louse who gets too drunk to walk and decides to kiss the first person he sees on the street.”

Izaya’s body tenses visibly at that; his eyes widen, then narrow on Shizuo, trying to detect a lie. “I kissed you,” Izaya says, and Shizuo can’t tell if it’s a question.

The memories flash abruptly through Izaya’s mind. Blond tresses in fluorescent light, the clash of tongues and teeth. His weight against Shizuo’s warm, hard body, before everything went dark.

“Tsk,” Shizuo brings his hand to the back of his neck. “Of course, you don’t remember.”

“Ah… ahah…” Laughter bubbles from Izaya. “Ahahahahahah,” he giggles, loud and clear, doubling up on the couch. “Are you kidding me?” he says, wiping at the corner of his eye. “That’s so disgusting! I almost feel like throwing up all over again.”

Shizuo scowls at Izaya, unamused. “Yeah, whatever. Asshole,” Shizuo plucks off his bow tie and loosens his collar. “Now that we’ve settled this, how about you get the heck out of my house?”

“Aww, did I hurt Shizu-chan’s feelings?” Izaya stands up and walks gingerly towards Shizuo. “How cute.”

Shizuo watches Izaya approach him. He watches as the raven-haired man snatches Shizuo’s cigarette from his mouth and stubs it out in the ashtray over the counter—in fact, Izaya’s standing dangerously close right now, but, for some reason, Shizuo can do nothing but _watch_. And the heat returns like the last time, just as unexpected, and unwanted, a fever rushing all across his body. 

“But Shizu-chan's wrong about one thing. I didn’t kiss the first person I saw,” Izaya’s near enough that Shizuo feels the breath from his words. “I love all humans equally, remember? So, I’d never favor one over the others like that,” his hands slide up Shizuo’s shirt to curl around the collar, and Izaya leans forward. “I kissed you because Shizu-chan’s not human. Don’t you think it’s okay if I do it with a monster?”

“Oh, _shut up_ ,” Shizuo says, voice low and rough; then, Izaya’s tongue is in his mouth, writhing against his own in a relentless attack that sends shivers down Shizuo’s spine. Slender, demanding fingers grab at his hair, pulling him closer, and Shizuo barely realizes that he’s kissing and grabbing back until Izaya lets out a throaty moan so unguarded it takes them both by surprise.

Izaya pulls back at once and steps away from Shizuo, his calves bumping into the couch. For a moment, they just stand there, staring at each other, Izaya’s wrist lifted defensively to his lips. After seconds that seem like an eternity, the latter snaps out of it, heading unceremoniously for the door.

“Oi, Flea,” Shizuo calls after Izaya in exasperation. "Wait!"

Izaya stops at the doorway and pulls his hood up over the head. “ _In vino veritas_ ,” he says, not turning to look at Shizuo. “It’s Latin. But you wouldn’t know that, would you?”

“No…” Shizuo answers, honestly. The phantom sensation of Izaya’s hot, moist tongue lingers on his mouth. “What does it mean?”

“It means, it’s not fair,” Izaya says. His tone is soft but taunt, and a little shaky. “ _You_ ’re not fair, Shizu-chan. Not even a bit.”

With that, Izaya steps out into the Tokyoite night, leaving Shizuo— _again_ —with nothing but the urge to open the informant's head and peek inside his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These were supposed to be self-contained stories but, alas, I couldn’t resist making a sequel for “In Vino Veritas.” I’ll probably write a third installment at some point in the future ;-)
> 
> Kudos and feedback are much appreciated!


	4. Deskjob

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shizuo and Izaya are rival CEOs in a partnership meeting. Business AU.

“Orihara-san will see you in the meeting room now,” the secretary announces.

Shizuo, who has been waiting in the luxurious lobby for over half an hour, stands up and walks towards her. “Thanks. By the way, you wouldn’t mind if I kill your boss, would you?” he tells the stoic-looking woman in a conversational tone, as they walk side by side in the corridor.

It’s way, _way_ past their scheduled time, and Shizuo is perfectly aware there was no “urgent matter” that had come up—Izaya just likes to be as annoying as possible, or play dominance games, or whatever. Shizuo doesn’t understand nor, frankly, does he give a rat’s ass about what goes on in that twisted little brain. It had been like this since they were high-school classmates, long before they both went on to be leaders of their companies.

“Go right ahead,” the secretary answers, shrugging, deadpan. “The guy’s a waste of oxygen, anyway.”

Shizuo snickers and considers hiring her on the spot. When they reach the meeting room, she opens the door and tells the person inside: “Heiwajima-san is here.”

That person is Orihara Izaya, CEO of Orihara Inc., one of Japan's largest technology companies. Also known as the most infuriating _insect_ ever to grace the Earth... in Shizuo's informed opinion, naturally.

"Ah, Heiwajima-san," Izaya stands up and gestures for Shizuo to step inside, "do come in.” Then, turning to his secretary, "You may leave us, Namie. Oh", he adds with a honeyed smile, "and under no circumstances are you to interrupt us. Understood?"

Namie rolls her eyes at Izaya, nods, turns her back on them curtly, and exits the room without looking back.

“She’s fond of you, isn’t she,” Shizuo says, sarcastically. “Can’t say I blame her.”

Izaya grins. “Nice to see you too, Shizu-chan.” 

The shift from “Heiwajima-san” to the stupid nickname annoys Shizuo almost as much as Izaya’s crisp casual look, which makes him feel oddly self-conscious in his more traditional business suit. Shizuo loosens the necktie slightly and sits at the conference table opposite his rival.

Gracefully, Izaya spins in his chair, reaching for a bunch of papers, and puts on his reading glasses. “Shall we go over some numbers now?”

“Sure,” Shizuo says, taking a thick file out of his briefcase. He knows that, for all his annoyingness, Izaya is serious when it comes to business. “Let’s get to work.”

The next hour and a half are spent on numbers and graphs, methodically going through a list of topics, plus reviewing their financial reports. Although Shizuo has studied the records thoroughly and can negotiate his terms well, he cannot help but be impressed by Izaya's intellect and strategic vision.

“Very well,” Izaya relaxes on the chair and takes off his glasses, folding and placing them on the table. “That settles it on my end. I look forward to officially announcing our partnership with the Fortissimo brand next month.”

An ironic smile betrays the formality of Izaya’s words. “Thank you very much,” Shizuo replies, awkwardly. “We hope to build a lasting and fruitful business relatio-” 

“Actually, _Heiwajima-san_ ,” Izaya interrupts, a mischievous spark glinting in his eyes, “while I don't mean to take you away from your busy day, I was hoping to explore our mutually beneficial relations on a more… _personal_ … level. If you catch my drift,” he finishes and reaches for Shizuo’s necktie, wrapping its lower section around his slender fingers.

Shizuo has the terrible intuition that _that_ , right there, is a metaphor for their relationship.

Izaya's blazer slides off and he climbs on the tabletop, one knee, then another, tugging at Shizuo's tie to smash the blond man's lips on his own. They kiss, urgently and possessively. “Shizu-chan…” Izaya whispers, breathless, to which Shizuo answers with a low “Shut up.” Using his superior physical power, Shizuo pushes his rival until he lays on the table. For once, Izaya, disheveled, with a boner jutting from the front of his well-fitted pants, lets him have his way. And, so, Shizuo rolls him stomach down on the table, ass up against his crotch.

Pinning him with one big, powerful hand lodged between the shoulder blades, Shizuo undoes the buttons of Izaya’s pants, pulling them down unceremoniously. He makes short work of his own pair and reaches for something in his briefcase. Outside his field of vision, Izaya hears a cap open, followed by a squishy sound and, finally, two lube-covered fingers pressing to his entrance, then penetrating him.

“I see you came, ah...gah,” Izaya chokes, trying to suppress a whimper somewhere between enjoyment and a complaint, “prepared for our little ‘game’ this time.”

“I thought I told you to shut the fuck up, Flea,” Shizuo barks back, blushing furiously. He inserts a third finger, pushing in and out, scissoring in different directions. Izaya twists his head to look at Shizuo, flashing a weak smirk that melts into a slack-mouthed expression of lustful intensity, as long digits rub against the sensitive nerve endings deep within him.

Shizuo’s fingers are soon replaced by the tip of his swollen erection. The blond CEO grabs his rival’s right arm and left hip, and pulls Izaya towards him forcefully, impaling him on his prick. Izaya cries out, clutching at the edge of the table, trying to muffle any involuntary noises with his free elbow pit.

Shizuo groans as he fucks Izaya with deep short thrusts at a fast pace. “Sh-Shizuo...” Izaya sobs brokenly, legs giving out like they're made of jelly. Untouched, Izaya’s erection begins to ejaculate, splattering the floor planks with milky streaks of cum.

Feeling the fleshy canal clenching all around him, Shizuo is swept away by a pulsating wave of orgasmic pleasure and comes inside Izaya, a man whom he hates, or _wants to hate_ , with every fiber of his being.

For a while, the meeting room is eerily quiet. Shizuo is the first to break the spell and, somewhat wobbly, tucks his pants up, adjusts his suit, and tries to give his sweaty hair a dignified look. Then Izaya too gets dressed, surveying the incriminating evidence of their “partnership” on the floor with amused detachment.

“Shizu-chan,” he says, “if you were as ruthless in business as you are when you fuck me, your company would rule Japan by now,” dramatic pause, “no, the world!”

“No kidding,” Shizuo’s voice is hoarse and raspy. “And if you were as submissive a bitch as you become when you let me fuck you like this, I’m sure our negotiations would go a lot easier.”

Izaya laughs a sparkling laugh that tears at Shizuo’s heartstrings for reasons he has no intention of analyzing at that moment—or, like, _ever_. His rival subsequently jumps off the table on which he was leaning and approaches Shizuo, bringing his hands once again to his necktie. “So maybe we have a great deal to learn from each other,” says Izaya, gazing upward at Shizuo suggestively as he adjusts the knot, "don't you think, _Heiwajima-san_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usually, sex scenes are the hardest to write, but this time it was definitely those two lines in which I had to pretend I have the slightest idea of what goes on in a business meeting xD
> 
> As per usual, kudos & comments are appreciated!


	5. In Vino Veritas III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izaya wants to forget, but his subconscious has other plans.

Izaya is inside a giant coupé glass, with its back leaning against the concavity of the crystalline surface, armpits and knees bent over the rim while his arms and legs dangle out. His naked body is submerged in a sparkling, pale yellow liquid, and tiny air bubbles gently tickle his skin. It looks and smells like fancy champagne; Izaya doesn't remember having any but it might be possible to get drunk on just the luscious fragrance alone—apple and spice and pear, a hint of wet limestone—because he feels intoxicated. His head sways as Izaya breathes in the wine's aroma, closing his eyes, and he signs in contentment.

“I thought I told you to stay out of my champagne, Izaya- _kun_.”

Izaya’s eyes pop open and widen and his entire body jumps, the sudden movement causing some of the champagne to spill out and drip down the bowl. “Shizu-chan?!” Izaya shrieks and almost chokes on the expensive liquid. In his presence, right in front of his two eyes, is a colossal Heiwajima Shizuo, in a bartender’s suit with his sunglasses and the works, holding the glass Izaya is in by the stem. And that’s when it hits him that it’s not Shizuo or the glass that are gigantic, but he, Izaya, who is very, very _small_. “What the hell is going on?”

Shizuo is looking scornfully down at him, like a sommelier who has just opened a bottle of spoiled wine. “Tsk,” he says, “Some people get a fly in their soup. It seems I get a flea in my drink.”

Izaya can do nothing but stare blankly at his nemesis. Suddenly, he remembers that he’s stark naked in the champagne glass and starts to feel horribly ashamed and hot all over. “I don’t know what the hell is happening here, Shizuo, but I demand you put me down right this very instant,” he says, indignantly. For some reason, Izaya finds that the request lacks some potency when it is coming from a literal mini-me. 

“You talk a lotta big game for such a small fry,” Shizuo retorts, without a shred of hesitation. “But really, all you ever do is run away, ain’t it? You don’t even have the balls to face up to all those feelings you’ve been suppressing for years,” the man’s lips declare, cruelly, stunning Izaya into a humiliated silence. “You’re _pathetic_ , Flea.”

Before Izaya can recover some of his composure—well, as much composure as one can recover when one finds oneself naked, miniaturized, and at the mercy of one’s arch-enemy—and deny all of Shizuo’s ludicrous insinuations, the latter quickly brings the glass to his mouth and swallows the contents in a single sip.

 _Oh_ , Izaya thinks as his body is sucked right between a pair of tender lips. _Shizu-chan just drank me_.

Teeth scrape against Izaya before the mucous cavity envelops him and he lands on the dorsum of a soft tongue, and as he begins to slip down the throat, he wonders whether Shizuo can _taste_ him.

Izaya wakes up on his bed in the middle of the night, drenched in a cold sweat and, incredibly, with a boner in his boxer shorts. _What the actual hell just happened_ , is what he thinks as he recalls the still-fresh dream of himself in Shizuo’s glass. He would never have believed that his own brain and body, which are usually so reliable, could perpetrate a betrayal of this magnitude.

For some time, Izaya lies there and looks up, as if drilling a hole in the ceiling by the sheer intensity of his gaze would somehow wane down the unwanted erection. But his treacherous head keeps stumbling on the memories that he had tried very hard to forget since that evening at Shizuo’s apartment—large hands running across his back, touching his hair, holding the back of his neck, leaving a fiery path in their wake like nothing he had ever experienced. It had felt good, and _right_ , and Izaya had been unable to contain a moan so contrary to all the fibers of his aloof façade that it had put forth a question mark, a query about the unspeakable possibilities suspended in the abyss between them.

Izaya is nothing if intelligent enough to not ask questions for which he doesn't want to know the answer.

After all, Izaya knows, he has known as of the first time he laid eyes on the man, that Shizuo is a threat to his sense of self of a wholly different order from any other person he has come across. A monster, indeed. And, so, all those years ago, when the two of them had met, Izaya’s survival instinct had kicked in, and he had made up his mind that their relationship should remain firmly rooted in violence and violence alone—actually, it had been more of a mutual decision, considering that Shizuo _did_ throw the first punch. Which is okay. Izaya can handle violence. He can handle physical pain.

But he didn’t build an extensive philosophy of life about loving humanity from a (safe) distance just to throw it all to waste for a lost cause like Shizuo, someone who can never... reciprocate whatever is this nonsensical thing bubbling up within Izaya’s chest.

 _Better to just move on_.

To stubbornly ignore his body’s betrayal, as he had ignored his heart’s throughout the years. Izaya admits that there’s nothing in the whole wide world that displeases him more than the thought of a defeat against Shizu-chan, but alas, being human is about accepting limitations when coming upon them and working with what you’ve got. Only monsters are boundless, which is why in fairy tales, they always end up being slain by people. Weaknesses can be a source of strength.

In the end, the solution to Izaya’s problem is as simple as can be. He would, like he had been told many times before, stay the fuck out of Ikebukuro.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first half of this story is the weirdest thing I have ever written :)
> 
> Kudos are love, comments are life!


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